Treasured
by Abboz
Summary: After a mission goes disastrously wrong at the last second, Clint fights to ensure his partner's survival and rush her to safety. Terrified of losing Natasha, he puts his all into helping her, patiently caring for the only thing he has of value. TW: (Mentions of) Blood


Treasured

Clint held his partner tightly to him, cradling her head in his palm to provide at least some semblance of protection. It wasn't easy to control a jet with one hand whilst keeping her safe in his lap, but it was necessary and luckily the direct route meant that most of the time he could rely on the autopilot and keep all his attention on her as she needed. "It's alright." He fought to concentrate on her beautiful face instead of the blood he could feel on his hand, leaving a matted mess in the place of her stunning natural curls.

Though quiet, she was holding consciousness, but every time she closed her eyes he felt a touch of uncontrollable fear that she wouldn't ever wake up. He needed them to get back to headquarters quicker than they were, needed someone to examine her when all he could do was hold her, comfort her, and give her something to hold on for. It certainly didn't help that usually he'd tend to her wound, she preferred it wherever possible and he treasured that trust, and yet suddenly he was useless, helpless. "I'm here Tasha, I've got you. And I won't leave you. I promise I won't leave you."

"Cli–"

"Shh." He kept his eyes trained on hers, hoping the familiar sight would soothe her. "You're safe. We're almost there, just relax. You're safe. I'm here. I need you. You know I need you." He carefully brushed his lips against her forehead. "I'll look after you, I promise. Trust me, just focus on me, your Hawkeye, your stupid partner." He was sure one corner of her lips twitched upwards just slightly. "I'm so proud of you. So so proud. It's alright, I've got you, Tash." Ten minutes, just ten long and excruciating minutes until he could get her to the medical wing, and she just had to be alright.

* * *

Clint held Natasha's left hand tightly in his own, pressing kisses to the back of it as he sat patiently at her bedside, waiting for her to wake up. It had been just over two hours since the doctors had left them and she had been peacefully asleep the whole time, thankfully without the need for drugs.

Coulson had been in after half an hour, bringing them some clean clothes and food, and allowing him a sixty second break in the adjoined bathroom without abandoning her. Once their colleague left, he took the chance to change his now blood-stained t-shirt for a clean one, and then settled back in where he belonged, clasping her hand once more.

He refused to look away from her, gaze fixed on his beautiful partner's face, he had all the patience in the world when it came to her and had no doubt she knew he would wait forever if she needed him to. At the first glimpse of green eyes, lashes flickering, he squeezed her hand to reassure her, beaming. "Tasha."

He waited for her to focus on him, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the back of her hand to provide a reassuring constant as her mind began to clear. "Clint? Clint."

"Yeah it's me. It's alright, you're in a medical bay. You're safe, I'm here, just relax for me."

"Clint."

"Shh." He switched the hand which was holding hers, freeing the left one to cup her cheek and help keep her calm, gaze on him. "You're safe. I promise everything's alright. I'm here."

"I'm alright? My head." She lifted her right hand, instinctively bringing her fingers vaguely towards the worst of the pain.

"Don't." Clint gently touched her wrist, protecting her wound, but judging by the frown on her face he hadn't kept her from discovering the other issue. She trapped the tip of her hair between her fingers, holding it where it sat by the top of her cheek instead of below her shoulders. "Tasha." He took her hand away, kissing her palm.

"My hair."

"Shh." He began to stroke her locks to replace the negative feelings with comfort. "I know." Cupping her cheek, he leant closer and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "You were bleeding, a lot. It was in your hair, and left it matted. When we got here, I needed to get your head looked at, but the doctors couldn't see to examine you. I was so worried about you. There wasn't time to wash your hair or fight our way through, I was only able to clean you up once you'd been checked out and treated. We had to cut your hair to get to your wound, to help you. We had to make sure we could examine you completely, but luckily it looked a lot worse than it is, you're alright, when it heals you will be absolutely fine. I'm sorry about your hair though."

"It's okay." She frowned, and he knew it wasn't really alright, just better than being dead or brain-damaged. He resumed brushing his fingers over her red hair, coaxing her to relax with every touch. "It'll grow back. It will grow back, right?"

The archer nodded. "Of course it will." Lifting her hand in his, he raised it to his mouth to leave a lingering kiss on her skin. The corner of her lips twitched at the contact, so he smiled back.

"So, how bad does it look?"

"Doesn't." He shook his head. "You look beautiful."

She scoffed; the damp and roughly severed hair, pale skin from blood loss, exhaustion and intense headache were hardly conventional elements of beauty. "Are you saying that because you mean it, or because you're my partner?"

"I mean it." He swept his thumb over her temple. "I'm so glad you're alright."

"Me too." She squeezed his hand, taking comfort in the feel of his palm on her skin. "Thank you for saving me."

"Shh." Smiling, he shook his head, caressing her cheek. "I need you, Tash. Thank you for holding on."

Her brow furrowed just slightly. "Sorry for scaring you."

Again he shook his head, leaning closer. "Shh. Thank you for holding on." Tenderly cupping her face, he pressed a kiss to the crease that had just formed. "Just relax. I think you need some rest."

"Clint."

"I'll stay right here, look after you while you sleep, make sure you don't hurt yourself. Just a few hours until morning. and then hopefully I can bring you home."

"Home sounds good."

"Yeah it does." He nodded with a smile. "So get some sleep."

"But my head hurts. I have a massive headache."

Once again, he swept his thumb across her temple. "That's to be expected. But you're alright. And I'm going to help you relax." Leaning closer, he brought his face to her level. "How about, since this is a private room and no one will be coming in, a nice cuddle? Warmth, a soothing heartbeat, comfort. Will you let me cuddle you?" She watched him, taking it in, and then nodded, just twice. A grin spread across his face and he took his hand away from her cheek to move the edge of the blanket before climbing up to join her. "Come here." With deliberate tenderness, he helped her lift herself, protecting her head as he drew her into his arms, and then bringing it to rest against his chest. "You'll feel better soon. A couple of days and you'll feel like yourself again. Until then, I've got you."

She nodded her acknowledgement, and then clenched her fingers in the material of his t-shirt. "You changed your shirt."

"Yeah. I got it dirty."

He noted the pause, and when she flattened her palm against him, laid his on top. "You mean I got it dirty."

"Shh." He squeezed her hand, then lifted his to her cheek, kissing her forehead. "Doesn't matter. It doesn't matter at all; you're safe."

"Clint."

"As long as I have you, I'm happy. I can't do this without you. Any of this."

"Except you were at S.H.I.E.L.D. years before we met."

"When I was asked to join S.H.I.E.L.D. I didn't do it because I thought I'd be good at it, thought I would do a lot of good in the world, or because I thought I could be a hero. I thought that, just maybe, I could do one thing that would make everything I'd been through worth it, just one thing that mattered. You were that thing, Tash. You _are_ that thing; helping you, saving you, and letting you be you. I've always been doing this for you, all of it." He leant down to press another kiss to her forehead, and she closed her eyes at the contact.

"I am so lucky to have you."

He beamed. "Feeling's mutual. And I am so proud to be yours." Gently rubbing slow, soothing circles on her back, he held her a little tighter to bring his arms further around her and surround her with his embrace. "That's it. Relax and get some sleep. I'm protecting you."

She nodded slightly, fingers gripping his side. "Thank you."

* * *

By the next afternoon their wish had been granted, Natasha was discharged and allowed to go home, left in Clint's care under the condition that he promised not to leave her alone. He had welcomed the excuse to fuss, but exhausted and aching, she was all to happy to indulge him anyway. Despite turning the heat up a few degrees, he tucked her under a blanket on their couch, giving her the choice of viewing and pampering her with affection as they lounged in front of the TV together.

Hours after the movie had ended, Natasha curled her fingers in Clint's hair as he stirred from his sleep, smiling as he turned his head in her lap slightly. "Hello, sleepyhead."

"Tasha?"

"Hello."

"I fell asleep on you?" He swiftly sat up, twisting round and looking into her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm meant to be looking after you, you're wounded, you're the one that needs taking care of. I'm supposed to take care of my partner."

Tenderly taking hold of his chin, she leant closer and silenced him with a kiss, the second of contact enough to make him pause and take a breath. She smiled. "You saved my life yesterday. You deserve some rest, you've earned it. I've been resting too, haven't moved, haven't been in danger. You look after me. Don't worry."

"I know, I just..."

She nodded slowly. "I know. We had a bit of a scare."

"Hey." He shifted slightly closer, taking her hand in his and drawing it into his lap. "I see you feeling guilty; don't do that. It wasn't your fault, Tash." He squeezed her fingers to reaffirm the promise he'd already made countless times before. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. "I have a bit of a headache, but I'm alright."

"Natasha Romanoff alright, or Clint Barton alright?"

She beamed. "Clint Barton alright. I promise I feel okay."

"Good." He brushed his thumb against her temple, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with a simple flick of his hand. "I can't lose you."

Leaning into his touch, she took his hand in her own, drawing it away from her cheek and focusing on the sensations in the tips of her fingers as they uncurled to lie flat against his. "I'm alright. You saved me." She turned her palm, making sure not to break the contact as she carefully intertwined their fingers. "I think we both need to rest."

"Are you suggesting we nap together?"

"Well you're not exactly going to let me out of your sight."

"True."

"And you know it will do us both a lot of good."

"Yeah, I'm not objecting. You go and curl up, I'm gonna get us some hot drinks, and then I'll join you." A smile played on the corner of her lips. "What?"

"You make me happy."

"I do my best. You make me very happy too."


End file.
